Fifty Shades of Patience
by Aryea
Summary: This is a series of sessions based on what I think might have occurred between Christian and Flynn before the introduction of Anastasia Steele and after. There will not be a lot of interaction between Anastasia and Christian, it is more about him and Flynn. Hope you enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Charatcers belong to E.L. James. Spoilers for Fifty Shades trilogy. Rated M due to sexual content and language.

So, I had an idea to write out some scenes based on Christian's sessions with Flynn, from before he meets Ana straight through the books, if I can manage it. I really hope you enjoy and if you do, please, please review.

**FIFTY SHADES OF PATIENCE **

"Good to see you again, Christian."

"John," Christian shook Flynn's hand and settled in one of the leather wing back chairs.

He trusted John Flynn, far more than he had the other idiots that his parents had set him up with, but that didn't mean he enjoyed all the talk-it-out crap. No, he didn't enjoy it, not at all, but he needed it. Christian didn't like needing it, but had convinced himself it was a means to an end, another way to maintain control.

Flynn also understood that Christian would not sit on the preferable 'shrink's couch' during their sessions. He still needed to feel somewhat in control, so he always chose the chair.

John settled on one of the twin sofas that faced the chairs and smiled. He never took notes during their sessions, he found it distracting for his clients, but Christian knew the sessions were being recorded to refer back to later. It meant a lot to him that Christian even allowed this, that he trusted him not to be exploitive.

"You've shadows under your eyes again, still having trouble sleeping?"

Christian nodded and unzipped his windbreaker, which he had pulled on for the jog here from his apartment. "They've been worse lately," he admitted quietly.

"Is it the same one or a variation?"

"Variation, but same theme as always." Fucking crack whore, fucking pimp, dead crack whore...

John nodded. "Did you want to talk about them?" he asked already knowing the answer.

"No."

John knew which battles to choose and let it slide. They both knew that the nightmares of Christian as a child were chilling and terrifying and talking about them only made Christian more uneasy. John had the description of them, the gist, and that was enough. No point in rehashing it. "Would you be willing to accept a prescription..."

"No." Christian's hated any kind of drugs, and would concede to only take Tylenol or an antibiotic when necessary. He much preferred herbal remedies if he had something he couldn't deal with by mentally blocking out the discomfort. Anything else, anything more, felt like giving into impulse and reminded him of the crack whore that had been his mother. Drugs were drugs, and he would have no part in them.

"What about that tea I recommended last time?"

Christian shrugged. He'd tried all the possible natural remedies and nothing worked. He either slept, had nightmares and woke, unable to sleep again, or he was too stressed over the idea that he might have the nightmares and simply didn't sleep at all.

John switched gears to get Christian to settle. "How are your family?"

"Fine. They're fine." Christian flexed his fingers and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a Rubix Cube. "Mom wants me to come to dinner."

"Why don't you?"

"I saw her last week," Christian retorted petulantly. "I'm the CEO of my own company, I can't just drop everything every time she calls..."

"Is that what you'd be doing?"

"It's what she expects!"

"Is it?"

Christian sighed as he completed one side of the cube. "No."

In fact, Grace usually only called him on Sunday to ask how he was, or let him know if there was any social obligations where the Greys were expected to attend. Actually, most of those she left with his administrative assistant to add to his schedule.

"She is a mother."

"I know. I know she feels a duty..." Christian stared intently at his Rubix cube.

"Is that all you think she feels for you, Christian?"

"She saved my life."

"Yes. "

"And I made hers...difficult for it."

"You think she sees you as a burden?"

"No."

Grace Trevelyn Grey had too much class to think of her children as burdens, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe that she actually loved him. She cared about his welfare, his safety because that was the kind of person she was, but love? No. How could any woman love a child that she couldn't touch? A child that was so fucked up, so angry and difficult? He'd grown into a man, a man with a semblance of control and propriety, but they didn't know. None of them knew what kind of monster he really was, and so, of course Grace could never, would never love him the way a mother loves a son. His own mother hadn't wanted him, how could someone else's mother?

"Would you like to try the touch therapy today?"

"No." Christian wasn't in the mood to be pawed by John, he just wasn't. He had so much on his plate already, a new takeover, tense negotiations with a plant in Hong Kong and he had to give Lisa a toss because she was becoming too clingy.

"It's been several weeks, Christian."

"Next week. I'll do it next week, okay?" Christian completed one side of the Rubix cube.

"Well, what would you like to do today then?"

"Get laid."

John smirked. "Sorry, that isn't covered in my retainer."

Christian smirked. "Thank God for small favours."

"What happened to Leila?"

"Lisa."

"Yes, Lisa. What happened to Lisa?"

"What makes you think anything happened to her?"

"If you are wanting to get laid it means you aren't, therefore I have to assume that the young woman you've been seeing..."

"Fucking," Christian corrected as he finished a full square of green.

"Having a relationship with," John amended and waved off Christian's vulgarity. "Is no longer available to tend to your needs."

"My needs." Christian snorted and rose to pace the room. "Yeah, that's what she was for, right?"

"Was it?"

"Fuck off."

"Why did you end it this time?" John asked, curious.

Christian shrugged and ran his hands through his hair as he set his toy down, moved to the window and looked out at the beautiful view Flynn's office offered of the skyline. Lisa was a decent sub, but like all the others she had started to expect more. Also, there was no challenge, no fun in fucking her. Not that there should be, when he was her Dom, it was her place _not_ to challenge him, but her responses almost seemed premeditated.

"It wasn't working out."

"Why not?"

"She..." He didn't want to say she bored him, that would be cruel and ill- mannered, even when said in confidence, so he used his usual excuse. "She wanted more."

"Ah."

Christian hated it when John did that. "I don't _do_ more, you know that."

"How much more did she want?"

"Just more." Another shrug and then Christian returned to his seat and started biting his thumb nail. "The usual."

"I forget what the usual is," John replied patiently. "Refresh my memory."

Christian sighed and ran his hand through his hair again. John Flynn didn't ever forget a God damn thing and they both knew it. "Just...the usual. Hearts and flowers and...shit."

"She asked you for hearts and flowers, _and_ shit? Seems an odd combination to me."

Christian glared at him. Fucking smartass. "The usual as in, let's go to a club so everyone can see us, or let's meet up with my friends, or let's both sleep in your bed." He examined his cuticles and began to pick at one, destroying the manicure on his thumb. "Or they want to move in with me or..." He paused and swallowed, hard. "Touch me."

Christian couldn't deal with any of that, especially the last two. He always explained the limits, the conditions and an NDA was signed along with a consensual contract, yet after awhile the girls either got tired of not being able to touch him, or they wanted to hug and snuggle and be a fucking couple. Like that could ever happen!

"I see. Are you looking for someone else then?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, I've been busy with work, very busy. I don't have time to fucking shop around for a new sub."

John nodded and let the subject drop. He understood Christian's need for a BDSM relationship, it was one that he could control and the basis of his need to inflict pain and receive sexual gratification stemmed from his brief history with his birth mother. At the moment, it was a way for Christian to cope and the only way for him to experience any kind of intimacy. It would have to suffice until he was willing to open himself to alternatives.

"Have you given any more thought to that therapy I've suggested?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And it sounds stupid."

John resisted the urge to sigh. "Well, you've done everything else. right?"

Having studied Christian's file and seen his previous exposure to a revolving door of therapists, John didn't see the point of rehashing the same things over and over, it obvious wasn't working. Still, it was a challenge to get this brilliant, yet complex and tortured young man to accept that anything, any form of therapy would actually help.

"Pretty much."

"So, let's give it a try and see what rolls out?"

"Fine." Christian picked up the Rubix cube again.

"Where do you see yourself in, let's say, a year from now?"

"The CEO of my own company."

John stared at him. "Let's shoot for something a little higher, shall we?"

"Higher?" Christian smirked. "I think that's pretty damn impressive."

"Christian."

"How about rich, powerful and fucking some brown-haired girl?"

"Again, we're trying to reach into the future and find a place you'd like to be where you currently aren't."

"Therapy free?"

John smiled. Even in sweatpants, a t-shirt and jogging jacket Christian Grey exuded control and power, but John knew that there was a very insecure little boy behind that demeanour and so it was easier for him not to be intimidated. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure to see that happen, Christian."

Christian solved the Rubix, set it on the small end table beside him and sat back, crossing one leg over the other again. "Then pronounce me cured and I'll be on my way."

"It isn't about being cured, it's about helping yourself accept, properly accept, who and what you are."

"I accept that I am the son of a dead crack whore, multi-billionaire CEO, environmentalist and Dom, with an appetite for young brown-haired girls. That is who and what I am."

"You are the King of Bullshit, an over indulgent pretty-boy and an adolescent."

Christian smirked. "That too."

"Work with me here, Mr. CEO Billionaire."

"Where do I want to be in a year..." Again Christian sighed and leaned his head back, exposing his throat and closing his eyes as he searched for an answer. "Barbados?"

"Let me ask you this. Are you where you want to be in business?"

"Mostly, there's always room for improvement and growth."

"The same goes for your personal life." John ignored Christian's groan. "Whether you like it or not, it's the truth." John sat forward. "Let's start with this, let's say a year from now you want to be able to be touched."

Christian's expression closed over. "No." He couldn't handle that, didn't want that and nothing John did, not the talking, not the moronic exercises and certainly not the touch therapy was going to change the fact that he did not like to be touched.

"Christian, everyone wants to be touched." Some, John thought sympathetically, needed it even more than others and Christian was one of those people. He understood the fear the panic that overtook his patient, his friend when someone touched him in certain areas and that was something Christian couldn't control at this moment in time. That didn't mean he didn't want it.

Christian lowered his eyes as the pulse jumped against his jaw, gritting his teeth at the very idea of admitting to something he could never have.

"Christian."

"I can't handle it."

"Right now, no, but in time..."

Christian bolted from his seat. "Right now, a year from now, ten years from now, it doesn't fucking matter!" he growled, angrily and found himself rubbing his chest. "I can't do it! I've tried!"

"You have to keep trying, Christian."

"I don't need it!"

"Of course you do! Every person needs to be touched, Christian. Every person needs that level of intimacy."

"Not me."

"Why not?"

Christian turned back, leaned against John's desk and pulled at the front of his shirt, his heart felt like it was going to come through his ribcage. "It hurts," he croaked and hated himself for it.

"Being touched doesn't hurt you, Christian, the fear, the mistrust is what hurts you."

"She touches them all the time," Christian whispered appalled at the agony in his own voice. "They let her, they can let her do that and I...I ..." Can't. Christian could not even allow his mother to touch him beyond a very simple touch on his arm or brief kiss on the cheek.

"You let your sister touch you."

"It's different."

"Why?"

"I...I don't know." And he didn't. Christian didn't have a clue why Mia could touch him or hug him or throw herself at him and it didn't affect him. Perhaps because he had watched her grow up? Perhaps because he had been there all her life and knew who she was and what she would do.

"You want your family to touch you? Your mother?"

"No." Yes! His heart screamed and he knew John Flynn fucking heard it because the man had fucking dog ears! "I can't."

"I didn't say you could, I said you want to."

Christian bit his lip so hard he tasted blood then slowly returned to his chair and slumped upon it. "Yes," he whispered and dropped his face into his hands. He did want his mother to touch him. He wanted to know what it felt like to be held by her, to be kissed and stroked the way she held and kissed and stroked Elliot and Mia and Carrick.

"We'll get there. You know that don't you?"

Christian raised bleak eyes to his therapist. "It doesn't matter. If she knew what I was, what I really was, she wouldn't want to touch me any way."

"And what are you really?"

"A monster."

"How so?"

"I'm a...a..." Christian squeezed his eyes shut, ashamed. "You know what I am."

"Yes, I do, but you seem a little confused."

"I'm a fucking sadist!"

John sighed and gritted his teeth in irritation. "Christian, we've been over this. You are not a sadist..."

"I beat up women and fuck them because they remind me of my mother. What the fucking hell is that if not sadistic?"

"It's a coping mechanism, and a lifestyle choice, but you are not some criminal psychopath bent on hurting others. There are any number of people who do what you do, live with that type of sexual need that were not left on the floor of an apartment building for three days next to their dead mother's body!"

Christian winced and grew quiet. "Are we done?"

"No. I want to try the touch therapy."

"No."

"Christian..."

"I said no!" Christian pulled it in, struggled for and found his control and became the impassive, stoic CEO once more. "I have things to do." He returned his Rubix Cube into his jacket pocket and rose. "I'll talk to you next week."

John rose and shook Christian's hand. "You are a handful, Christian."

Christian shrugged and grinned. "I know."


	2. Chapter 2

Characters belong to E.L. James.

Thanks everyone for all your support! Hope you enjoy this chapter as much and if so, let me know. I love hearing from all of you!

* * *

**CHAPTER 2**

Christian jogged along the lakeshore towards John Flynn's office. He liked that the therapist was close and he preferred to run there after work, or sometimes before work, depending on how bad he was feeling. Taylor jogged behind him, always staying close enough to protect him, but far enough to give him some space; some semblance of privacy.

Christian was always alone, even in a crowded room he was alone, and there was nothing he could do about that. He was set apart from people and he had no clue how to bridge that gap. Too many years went into tearing away the bridge to start building one now.

His past therapists were all about delving into his pasts, reviewing his life with the crack whore and his time living with the Greys. They tried to get him to talk when he couldn't. They tried to get him to admit he was damaged when he wouldn't, but after awhile, hearing a constant listings of his failings, all the things that were wrong with him that after awhile he couldn't help but believe it.

He'd had a horrendous childhood, yes, he knew that. He was socially inept, he knew that too, but he didn't understand the point of going over the same shit all the fucking time. Like picking at a scab until it became a scar you could never remove. But, that was how he believed therapy worked and to please his parents he had continued to seek therapy.

Then, he met John Flynn at one of his mother's fundraisers. Here was a self made man, much like Christian was. Flynn had pulled himself out of the slums of England, put himself through school and moved to America to practice his trade. He enjoyed wealth, success, again like Christian, and most importantly he had a sense of humour.

Christian found Flynn easy to talk to and one of the few people that could not, would not be intimidated. He liked the Englishman, even more so when Flynn made a less than flattering comment about one of Christian's previous therapists, who also happened to be at the fundraiser.

Flynn never broached the subject of treating Christian, he kept his work strictly off limits while he was at a social engagement, and that told Christian that Flynn was not a social climber, or out to make a name for himself.

Eventually, after further research, Christian made an appointment to see Flynn professionally, and neither of them had looked back. Within only a few months, John Flynn was able to earn Christian's trust, far more than he had the other shrinks he had seen and that seemed to solidify their relationship. Christian had to sacrifice control while working with Flynn, who wasn't the least bit intimidated by him, no matter how he acted, and Flynn didn't let Christian get away with anything either. It was irritating, but also comforting to know that no matter how badly or fucked up he behaved, John Flynn would still be there; would still want to help him.

Christian entered Flynn's office and greeted the therapist's secretary by name.

"Go on in, Mr. Grey. Dr. Flynn is ready for you."

Christian glanced at Taylor who was helping himself to a cup of water from the cooler, before dropping down into one of the waiting chairs and picking up a magazine. He smirked, then headed into his therapist's office.

"You're late," John teased as he rose from his desk and extended his hand.

"I had to take a call." Christian shook John's hand and accepted the glass of water that John handed him. He swallowed half of it, then headed towards the seating area.

"Nothing wrong I hope?"

"No. Just business." Christian dropped into the chair while John remained standing. Christian glanced up at him. "What?"

"We're doing the touch therapy today."

Christian gritted his teeth and lowered his eyes. "No."

"Christian."

"I said no. What do I need to do, skywrite it?"

John folded his hands in front of him and waited, patiently. He was used to Christian's moods and tantrums.

"I don't want to do it today."

"You don't want to do it any day."

"You can't make me."

"No. I can't." John agreed calmly. "But you did give me your word three weeks ago that you would try it."

Christian pushed away the niggling thought that he was disappointing John, telling himself he didn't care. He didn't like not keeping his word, he was a man of his word, but damn it, he didn't want to do that fucking kind of therapy!

"Fuck. Fine." He set his glass down, harder than he had intended, on the table and rose. "Fucking do it then."

"Let's move over here," John suggested as he rose, away from all the breakables and the window; he added silently.

Christian huffed and followed, then kept his eyes on Flynn as the therapist stood in front of him and lifted his hands, palms out. He'd agreed to try the touch therapy again because Flynn was insistent, but he hated the idea. They'd tried about a half a dozen times or so in the last six months and they were no closer to a cure. Of course, Christian managed to talk himself out of it most times.

"I'm going to touch your shoulder, to start," John advised kindly. "We know you can handle that. Okay?"

It took a few seconds for Christian to give a quick, curt nod.

John's hand set lightly on Christian's right shoulder, he felt the young man tense but that was normal. "Good. Now, your neck."

Christian's breathing started to hitch and accelerate and while he knew that John was not the pimp, knew the man's hands were empty, he could feel the burning against his skin, smell the stale aroma of an imaginary cigarette and it terrified him.

"Easy," John reminded him. "You're doing great, Christian."

Christian didn't feel great, he felt fucking naseaus.

"The arm." Christian's eyes widened as John's hand slowly slid down his right arm, to cup his elbow. "Good! Good, now…" John lifted his right hand. "We're going to try your chest, okay?"

Christian steeled himself, heard his breath coming in quick short pants and wanted to close his eyes but couldn't; he had to see. He had to know. He couldn't trust what he couldn't see.

"On the count of three, then. One." John kept his gaze encouraging as he saw the fear crawl into his patient's eyes and the way that Christian Grey went stone still, except for his hands which continued to curl and uncurl into fists at his sides. "You can see my hand, my empty hand. We're in a room where nothing can hurt you. You can leave any time you like. You can say no."

Christian heard John's words, but they were muffled by the insane terror that was chorusing through him and the sound of blood rushing through his eardrums.

John put his hand a few inches from Christian's rapidly heaving chest. "Two."

Pain! Burning! Fuck! "I can't!" Christian stumbled back, gasping. "I can't."

John was not discouraged as he let his hands fall away. He knew that it would take time. "We'll try again when you're ready."

"No."

"Christian. You told me that one of your goals was to be able to handle being touched. I won't hurt you."

"I know that!" But he didn't. In his heart he didn't trust that Flynn would not hurt him and he hated himself for it.

"Then let's try it lying down…"

Christian shook his head and tried to slow the pounding of his heart. He felt more exposed lying down; he couldn't do it lying down. "No."

"You don't mind being touched by your trainer, right?"

"It's…different."

"Why?"

"I'm focusing on…it's physical, but it's…" Like fighting. He could be touched when he was fighting, for the simple fact that his fear urged him to find a way free. "I can find focus during the sessions with Claude. It's arms and legs and…technique."

"And you can't find the focus when it's just you and someone who wants to touch you for the purpose of intimacy?"

Christian's face became stone. "I just don't like to be touched."

John knew that was what Christian believed, and part of that fear was based on what had happened to him as a child, but John had suspected for some time now that for this young man, intimacy was a far bigger threat than being touched. Christian was not intimate with anyone. He kept everyone at a specific level of distance that he alone felt comfortable with, and no one got through beyond that barrier he had erected.

"Yet you suffer through it for your training." John tilted his head, what a complex fellow this Christian Grey was. "Can't you try to find that same focus for your every day life?"

"I do."

"How so?"

"I tell people not to fucking touch me."

"But that isn't focusing, that's keeping them at arms length. What would happen if one of your associates got excited and they suddenly raced up and hugged you?"

"I pay them to work not play fucking patty fingers with their boss!"

"Okay then, what if it was a friend, a family member that wanted to show you affection?"

"My family knows I don't like to be fucking touched!" Christian moved over by the windows and ran his hands through his hair, concerned by the slight tremor he noticed in his fingers. "We've been over this. You know why. Why can't we just accept it and move on?"

John didn't comment on the fact that Christian did not reiterate the same distinction for his friends. He knew that the young man, who was so revered by others, had no real friends, other than his business partner Elena Lincoln, and _that_ was a relationship that they had only briefly touched on. Christian wasn't yet ready to see Ms. Lincoln for her role in his issues, not yet anyway and John wouldn't push it.

"You can't go through your life without touch, Christian. No one can."

"I can. I've been fine without it for twenty-seven fucking years."

"But you miss so much," John replied calmly and walked over to the younger man, holding out his hand. "Here, shake my hand."

Christian put his hand in Flynn's, but tensed.

"How do you feel?"

"Stupid."

John smirked. "But this contact is fine?"

"Yes."

John knew Christian was lying. "You're tense."

"Because you're up to something."

John smiled. "What makes you think that?"

"You're always up to something."

"Ah, well, there is that." John's smile widened as he slowly pulled his free hand up and gently, with Christian's full attention dropped it on Christian's shoulder. "How's this?"

"Why, do you want to dance?" Christian could feel himself start to shake however and that angered him. Don't touch me! Don't fucking touch me! His heart cried out, but he maintained control, despite the trickle of sweat that broke across his forehead.

"I'm going to move my hand now." John's hand carefully travelled down Christian's arm, and while he remained tense, the young man didn't pull away, so he did have some control over his fear. He could be touched in certain places.

However, when John's fingers accidentally grazed Christian's ribcage Christian bolted away from him and couldn't take it anymore. He pulled back, breathing hard and placed his hands on his legs, trying to keep from tossing his breakfast.

Oh God! Fuck. Fuck! He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to push away the terror, the panic and the lightening fast images that suddenly assailed him. It hurts. Fuck it hurts!

"You're okay, Christian. There's nothing here that can hurt you."

Christian shook his head and stumbled onto the sofa, appalled to feel so wretchedly out of control of his body. "Not…Not…" He shook his head. He was fifty shades of fucked up and there was nothing anyone could do. He would never be able to allow someone to touch him and fuck that hurt more than the phantom pain he so often experienced.

John settled beside him, but not close enough that the young man would be nervous and offered Christian the glass of water again. "Drink."

Christian reached for the glass with a trembling hand and managed to get at least some of the water into his mouth. He set the glass on the table and dropped his head into his hands, telling himself that he was fine. He was safe. He was in control.

"You did well, Christian."

Christian shook his head and reached for the water again. He didn't do well. He freaked out, again. Why the fuck couldn't he get control?

John rose and retrieved a sheet of paper from his desk drawer and strapped it onto a clipboard. When he returned, he showed Christian the paper held the form of a man, showing two diagrams one front and one back. "Let's figure out the boundaries, then, shall we?" He set a package of colored markers on the table and handed Christian the clipboard. "In blue, I want you to mark the areas you can suffer to be touched. These are areas that make you uncomfortable, but you can deal with it in a crunch. In yellow, the areas that do not bother you at all, or very little, and in the red the areas you, at present, find difficult.

Christian picked up the red first, colored his entire chest area on the first diagram and the back on the second diagram. In blue he colored his legs and arms. In yellow his hands, feet and head, then he handed the clipboard to John. "I'm so fucked," he muttered and hung his head again, shoving his fingers through his hair.

"Yes, you're a mess."

Christian's head shot up and he gaped at the Englishman. "What!"

"How you got to be CEO of your own company when you can't even color inside of the lines is beyond me."

Christian smirked, and then grinned. "Asshole."

"Sometimes." John set the clipboard down and dropped his hand on Christian's head. "So, this is fine."

"Mostly."

John moved his hand to the back of Christian's neck and felt him tense, ever so slightly. "Here?"

"If you try to kiss me I'll fucking pop you."

John laughed, startled. "Maybe we'll try that later." He picked up the clipboard again. "Christian, there is nothing fucked up about having haphephobia, thousands of people suffer from it and not all of them have been dealt the cards you have."

"Do they get over it?"

"Some do, some don't." John nudged Christian with his knee. "Depends on how hard they work at it."

"I fucking knew there was going to be a lecture in there somewhere."

John laughed and looked at the diagrams again. "Let's do this then," he began. "We'll concentrate on the blue areas, get you more comfortable with them, and we won't move on to the red areas until you agree that you are ready."

"This is a trick isn't it? You're trying to see if I trust you, trying to trip me up somehow. All of you do it. I know you do. There's a catch somewhere."

"Now, Christian, I can't be responsible for those idiots you worked with before, I can only tell you what I am going to do."

Christian met John's gaze, held it, and searched for a lie. "You won't go near the red areas?"

"Not until you give me permission."

"You're word on it?"

"My word on it."

Christian considered it for a minute. He did want to get over this fear, but damn it was so hard to trust. "What's the catch?"

"There is no catch, aside from the fact that you will have to let me try at least once or twice a month to use the touch therapy."

"See, there is a catch."

John smiled. "Surely a successfully, filthy rich businessman like yourself can see the purpose in a little negotiation?"

Christian sighed and finally nodded. "Okay. Okay, the blue areas and only…If I tell you to stop…"

"I stop."

Christian nodded, glanced at his watch and realized that while their time was not yet up, he'd had more than enough for one day. "I have to go."

"Of course you do."

"I have an empire to run, remember?" Christian retorted, as his lips twitched.

"Ah, well, lucky for you I have other, more agreeable patients to see as well." John rose, moved to his desk and plucked two lollipops from his candy jar. "Be a good lad and send the next contestant in, would you?"

Christian caught the candy, one handed. "Suckers, appropriate." He unwrapped the cherry one and stuck it in his mouth as he moved to the door. "Same time next week?"

"Unless you have an overwhelming need to see my pretty face, yes."

"Not likely." Christian grinned and opened the office door. Both of them knew that sometimes he did need to see Flynn outside of their normal scheduled appointments. He told the receptionist that Flynn was ready for the next client, tossed Taylor the second lollipop and the two men headed out.


	3. Chapter 3

Characters belong to E.L. James. I hope you are continuing to enjoy this story, I had fun writing this chapter, I hope you have fun reading it, and if so, please review.

* * *

**CHAPTER 3**

"You seem distracted today, Christian."

"Am I?" Christian shifted in his seat and crossed his legs. He'd been at the office since six thirty that morning, and had to stay late as well, almost missing his weekly appointment with Flynn, so he was still in his business suit. "I guess I am."

"Work?"

"No." For a change, he thought wryly. Well, there were issues at work, there always was, but he dealt with them and rarely stressed about it.

"Family?"

"No."

"Are you sleeping well?"

"Yes. No. Mostly."

"Is it something you want to talk about?"  
"Same shit different night."  
"That's a no, then?" John smirked and watched Christian shrug. "You've lost all your money and need to ask for a loan?"

"Don't be stupid." Christian sighed and realized that John would keep going if he didn't give up something, and because it was Flynn, he knew he had to be honest. "It's nothing really. I've met this...woman. Girl, she's just a girl, barely over twenty and...well...she's still in college. I mean, what the hell would I do with..." He broke off and shook his head. He knew exactly what he would like to do with Anastasia Steele. "Anyway, she...never mind. What were we talking about?"

John kept his face impassive and tried not to reveal his sudden interest. So, Christian Grey was smitten? This was new, and encouraging news. "Have you found another lady friend yet?" John didn't like to call Christian's sexual partners submissive. He was neither supporting nor condoning Christian's sexual choices, but he did sometimes feel it necessary to humanize them, for Christian's sake.

"No." Christian thought about Anastasia Steele's full mouth and wide trusting eyes. "No, I...I've been busy."

That was only half true, he was always busy with work, but he usually found time for some pleasure. In reality, he'd was bored by the routine of it all. All the women that subbed for him were the same. Well of course they were; that's why he had chosen them. But Anastasia Steele...well, she had the look, the build, maybe a little smaller than he usually preferred, but he'd liked that too. And a sharp wit, once she got her bearings anyway.

"So, would you care to..." John was startled when Christian suddenly sat forward and clasped his hands together.

"It's just…I can't stop thinking about her," Christian admitted, suddenly, interrupting the therapist's sentence. "I can't figure it out. I mean, I like women, I enjoy them and, admittedly she is my type, but she's just a child, really and I..." God he wanted to take her into his playroom and just beat the living shit out of her, then fuck her until they both passed out from the pleasure of it all.

He pressed his lips together, appalled at his own thoughts as he sat back against the chair again. She should stay away from me, far away. I mean, she would never..." He ran his hands through his hair, agitated. "For Fuck sake she blushes. Actually blushes! I've never met a woman that does that." He paused as he again considered Anastasia Steele's age. "No, she's a girl. She's just a girl and I should stay away from her." He looked to John for help. "Shouldn't I?"

John was forcing himself to remain seated on the sofa, when what he really wanted to do was jump up and hoot and holler in triumph. Something, no someone, had made Christian Grey nervous, and not only nervous, but charmingly befuddled.

"Why do you think you should stay away from this girl?"

"You know why!" Christian rose, uneasy. "She's innocent! I mean, perhaps not innocent, she is in college, but she..." He thought of Anastasia Steele's tiny, curvaceous body writhing in passion, her head thrown back, those big blue eyes wide, her luscious lips parted as she screamed in orgasm, and the arms of her lover circling protectively around her. The vision startled him. Angered him. Alarmed him. "No."

"No what?" John asked, intrigued by the depth of changing emotions that flickered across his client's face.

Christian clasped his hands behind his back and stared stonily out the window, ignoring the fantastic view that lay before him. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Okay." John chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "Have you been keeping a journal, like I suggested?"

"I started but…" He had such major issues with trust. He didn't like the idea of putting his thoughts and feelings, his secrets on paper where it could fall into the hands of anyone. He shook his head. He kept personal papers in his safe, including certain photos to prevent anyone from blackmailing him, but a journal. It just…it didn't seem... "Safe," he said aloud. "It isn't safe."

"You could write it as a blog and upload it to a private server, give yourself a different name, so if anyone came across it, no one would no it was Christian Grey's journal."

"You want me to throw that shit out into the world wide web?"

"No. You, more than anyone, know that there are secure sites that can be closely monitored, but I think you should do just that. Throw it out there. No one would know it was you and blogs are a dime a dozen now a days. You might even get some useful feedback."

"You're out of your mind. I am not writing about my personal…" Christian turned back to the window and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I pay you to listen to my shit, that's all I need."

For now, John added silently. "It's good to be needed."

Christian smirked, at first, but Flynn's words reminded him once again of a small, blue-eyed girl. Appearances could be deceiving. What if Anastasia Steele was a closet sex maniac? It could happen. No one would ever consider that he, Christian Grey, philanthropist, environmentalist and CEO of a multi million dollar business was a sadist and got off on tying up little brown haired girls and fucking them.

"I don't know that she would have any experience," he murmured as he ran his finger down the window pane. "I shouldn't even be considering..."

"You like her."

"What?" Christian's head had almost swivelled off his shoulders in surprise as he looked back at Flynn.

"You like this college girl."

"She…I…Why would you say that?"

"It's a simple deduction."

"I..." Christian found it difficult to admit to. Did he like Anastasia Steele? Well, he was attracted, certainly and that way she had of biting her lip when she was nervous was...well surprisingly stimulating. "She...she's just a woman...a girl..."

"Is she a woman or a girl?"

"A...Well...she..."

"You said she was in college?"

"Yes. Yes, she is, in her final year I believe. I believe she said that." Hadn't she said that? It had been hard concentrating on anything other than those beautiful naive eyes and that flash of temper he'd gotten barely a glimpse of. "She thinks I'm gay!"

"Are you gay?"

"No!" Christian swore again, finding himself almost as angry as when Anastasia had asked him that same question. He started to pace. "You know I'm not."

Well, his family believed he was, but that usually just amused him. It was the unspoken secret of the Grey family, but that was only because they had never seen him with a woman. He could hardly introduce them to any of his subs. He didn't know why he found the idea of Anastasia Steele thinking he was gay so appalling.

"How did you meet her?"

"She interviewed me for some school newspaper." Christian smiled as he remembered the way Anastasia Steele had fallen into his office, and then tripped over the questions her friend had prepared for her.

"So, she's a journalist?"

"No. Her friend is, she...her friend was sick, she was the one that was supposed to interview me and Ana...I mean...Miss. Steele took her place, but it was obvious she'd never done it before." He winced and was appalled that he felt heat sting his cheeks. "Interview someone, I mean. She was very..." Sweet, funny, surprising, beguiling...

"Christian?"

Christian turned back to face John. "Hmmm?"

"She was very...what?"

"Nothing." He returned to his chair and pulled his treasured Rubix cube out of his pocket. "It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about that."

"Okay. Would you like to..."

Again Christian interrupted. "She obviously did not have the slightest effect in meeting me, if anything she..." Treated him with a touch of distain, perhaps? He shook his head. Wariness? Discomfort? Indifference? No. More like...more like...Damn it! He couldn't think of what it was and he was always good at reading people and situations. It was how he made his damn fortune! "I couldn't get a handle on her."

John chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. He had never seen Christian so flustered! So, this Miss. Steele hadn't fallen all over herself when faced with the Great Christian Grey and poor Christian hadn't understood such an atypical reaction.

"Why do you feel you need to get a handle on her?"

"What?"

"Well, if you've only met her the one time, and you've decided she isn't what you want, why bother getting a handle on her?"

"I told you, she…" Christian struggled to remember what he hell he said. "I don't think she liked me."

"What does it matter?"

"Well, I mean…I don't expect everyone to like me, naturally, but people generally at least pretend…" He glared at John. "Look, she didn't have any…" He paused again and realized that he wasn't explaining this very well. Then again, he was having a hard enough time figuring it out himself, let alone telling Flynn. "I suggested she intern at my company and she practically threw it back in my face! I mean, who does that? Who does she think she is? People line up to get a job with Grey Enterprises and this…this college pixie thinks she's too damn good to work for me? Like, what the fuck?"

"Perhaps she isn't looking to work in that field?"

"She wants to work in publishing. I have a publishing house, a good one. Why isn't it good enough for her?"

John could no longer contain the smile that was slowly spreading across his lips. "Was she interviewing you or you her?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Well, you just seem to know an awful lot about a young woman that you say you have no interest in."

"No I don't," Christian defended.

"What color are her eyes?"

"Blue."

"Hair?"

"Brown."

"What college does she attend?"

"Washington State, Look! What is this?"

"I'm just establishing how much you already like her."

"I don't like her! I don't like anyone."

"That's far from true and you know it."

"Look, any…any interest I might have in her is because she's my type, sexually, she's my type. I'm attracted. I want to fuck her. That's it. That's all there ever is."

"Okay, so then why do you have to stay away from her?"

"I don't want to hurt her! She doesn't need someone like me screwing up her life!"

"Is that what you think will happen?"

"Yes! Maybe…Look…"

"You only want to have sex with her, right?"

"Yes." That much Christian was sure of. He did want to fuck Anastasia Steele.

"How will that screw up her life?"

"Because she doesn't deserve that kind of…"

John sat forward, clasped his hands over his knees and did his best not to show any of the intense excitement he was feeling. This could be a break through for Christian, if the stubborn, egotistical child-man allowed it. "That kind of what?" he asked calmly.

"I…" Christian quickly back pedaled and tried to think of a reason, a solid explanation for saying that, but he couldn't. He had never been ashamed of his sexual preferences, well okay, perhaps never was a strong word, but he didn't treat his submissives badly. He was never cruel to them and he never wanted to hurt them more than they could handle, more than they had agreed to.

He thought of Anastasia Steele's tiny form strapped down as he whipped her, tormented her, and then fucked her, and while he grew immediately aroused, part of him, a very tiny part had her turning to him, her eyes wide with fear and betrayal; her perfect pale skin marred, her doll-like body broken.

"I'm not a monster," he whispered as he tried to shake away the vision. Yes, he wanted to hurt her, but he didn't want her to be afraid of him. He didn't want her to ever be afraid of him.

John sat back, beyond pleased. Finally! Bloody fucking finally! "No, no you're not." Despite Christian's insistence that he was a sadist John knew better and now, maybe he could convince Christian as well. One little crack in the window, one little chink in that armour and all manner of things could happen. "You care about the women you have relationships with. You see to their comfort, their needs as much as they to yours."

Christian nodded. "Yes. Exactly. I want them to be comfortable and…and…" Pleasured, not just sexually.

He knew some Dom's that liked to belittle and demean their submissive all of the time, but that wasn't what Christian liked to do. He could control his submissive without being cruel, without forgetting the softness that a woman sometimes needed.

Despite his early start with the crack whore, Grace had taught him to respect women, and regardless of his need to beat and punish them in his playroom, he never demeaned women emotionally; beyond what was agreed to. That was why he had such exact stipulations in his contracts, so both sides knew what they were getting into.

He never slapped a woman in the face, never beat her bloody or neglected to take care of her afterwards. He believed that part of being a Dom was to ensure the happiness and pleasure of your submissive, so they would continue to want to obey you.

Quite often he lavished gifts on his submissives and they always seemed delighted by it. Granted, many times it was clothing he wanted to see them in, or pricy jewellery, but he made the effort and whatever he gave them was theirs after the relationship ended; they understood that. Granted he never took them out in public, to dinner or a ball, but that had always been part of the agreement.

He thought again of Anastasia's Steele's tiny lithe body strapped to a spreader bar in his playroom and was alarmed at how much it aroused him. But then, he saw those big blue eyes again, wide and fearful and not understanding. No. No, he couldn't do that. She wouldn't be able to give him what he needed. Would she? What if the innocent act was just that, an act? She was extraordinarily beautiful, so perhaps she would be up for some kinky fuckery.

He rose suddenly. "I have to go."

"We still have time…"

"No. I have to go. I just…I have to…" He had to see her again. It didn't matter if she wouldn't be up for his games, didn't matter if she didn't like him or he was bad for her. He had to see Anastasia Steele one more time, at least. Just once more and then he would find a woman to take home and fuck blind, to rid himself of the memory of the blue-eyed, brown haired girl.


	4. Chapter 4

disclaimer: Characters belong to E.L. James. Sorry for not updating sooner, lots going on. Glad some of you are enjoying my Fifty Songs stories and if you haven't checked them out yet, please do. As always, I implore, encourage and beg of you to share your thoughts via a review, or personal PM if you feel more appropriate. Enjoy!

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"You've lost weight Christian."

"Have I?" Christian shrugged. "Maybe."

"Something bothering you?"

"Something is always bothering me," Christian reminded as he casually crossed one leg over another with an easiness he did not feel. "That's why I have to talk to you. I'm fucked up beyond all repair, remember?"

John frowned. They'd made great strides recently, in the last two weeks especially, yet something seemed to have happened that sent Christian back into his self-depreciating cocoon. He went back over their last few conversations, searching for a trigger and quickly found one.

"How is your new companion?"

Christian stiffened, ever so slightly. "Gone, like the others."

"Did you want her to go?"

Christian shrugged. "They all go."

"You tired of this one quickly then?"

"No!" Christian was startled by his own outburst and immediately sat back again, the vision of control and calm. "She wasn't up for the task."

And he had known that when he'd pursued her. He'd known that Anastasia Steele would not fit his requirements, but had been taken in by her beauty and innocence. He'd been a fool, an A class fool and because of that, because he let his guard slip she had gotten past his defenses. For the first time in his life, a woman had walked out on him.

John doodled on his notepad, he never took therapy notes, as all sessions were recorded, but he liked to have something to do with his hands. Besides, Christian didn't like constant eye contact.

He drew a crane just taking flight as he considered his patient's response. So the young woman Christian was interested in from their last session has flown the coop…and it obviously bothered him. Perhaps their progress was further along than he anticipated.

"You seemed quite taken by her."

"She's beautiful, charming…she was just my type." It hurt him to say it, hurt him to admit that had been the initial reason that he'd pursued Anastasia. She fit the profile of a woman he could beat into submission; a woman that reminded him of his crack whore mother. "Of course I wanted her."

"And now you don't?"

Oh, but he did. Christian realized that with every fiber of his being he still wanted Anastasia. Not just for the sex; he'd had great sex before, but with her there had been… something more; something he couldn't identify, something that could easily have grown into an addiction.

"Even I know that I can't have everything I want."

Since when? When had he not gotten everything he wanted? With his money and his family connections he could, and often did, have his heart's desire, at least since he started living with Grace and Carrick. But he couldn't have Anastasia. She didn't care about his money or fame, didn't care about what he could give her. Perhaps, that was _why_ he wanted her more than the others.

"I see."

"Don't say that! I hate it when you fucking say that!"

John drew a large tree that the crane could perch on, if it so desired, unruffled by Christian's sudden anger, knowing his patient would settle down again in a moment. One thing that Christian Grey had in spades was control.

"Do you miss her?"

"No." YES! God, he missed her so much it was insane! He wasn't sleeping at all because he had stupidly taken her on his bed, his bed; he'd never done that before. What the hell had he been thinking? Now all he could think about was what they had done on that bed.

He rose every morning and ate, but he took no enjoyment from it. He was working long, crazy hours, immersing himself in work so that he wouldn't have time to think about Anastasia. He met with Claude every day to try and beat himself into exhaustion so he could sleep. Sleep and not think. Then, the next day it started all over again.

"You're not upset by her leaving?" John asked as he added some clouds, hiding a sun.

"No." Christian rose. "Can we talk about something else?"

"It's your show."

"Right…my show."

His show, yes it had all been his show, hadn't it? He never should have shown Anastasia his Play Room, never should have subjected her to that sort of culture; but what else could he have done?

He'd tried to be up front and honest about what he wanted from her, as he was with all his submissives. Sex without emotional attachment. A fulfillment of physical needs, but no romance, no discussions of the future, no walking out in public as a couple. How hard was that to understand? It was so basic a worm could understand it.

Anastasia seemed keen to move forward, seemed to grasp the concept of a completely physical relationship; and she certainly enjoyed the sex. Her responses had been…inspiring, to say the least. And then, she'd asked him for it, asked him to hurt her…How could he deny her request? Should he have denied it? No, then she'd always be wondering. She had to understand what he needed, why he needed it, or there was no point in them having a relationship.

"Jesus."

When had he started thinking about his companions, his subs, as being in a relationship? He didn't _do_ relationships. He didn't _do_ fucking vanilla sex and he shouldn't be bothered by some up-tight virgin who didn't know any better than to get involved with someone like him.

John heard Christian's oath, but remained silent. There was a symphony of emotions playing on the young man's face and the doctor was loathe to interrupt, better to let it play out and hope Christian came to a conclusion himself. He hated to be told what he was feeling, it was always better to allow for self-discovery whenever possible.

"They get attached, too attached," Christian muttered, more to himself than John as he moved to the windows to look out. "They all know the score, they understand what they're signing on for, but somehow, they always get too attached and it has to end."

John nodded and watched his patient with interest. Christian could not comprehend what any woman would see in him beyond his money and his sexual appetite. Never understood what the big deal was, or why women even liked him beyond the physical. He had spent the first years of his life being unloved and neglected, now it seemed he deemed he should spend the rest of his life the same way. It annoyed John, but that was why Christian came here, to find a way to improve his life and his self-worth.

"Did this new girl become too attached?"

"Yes. No." Christian growled and fisted his hands before forcing himself to slowly relax them. "I did."

John's eyebrow shot up. "Excuse me?"

"I got…attached."

Now she was gone. He'd hurt her and she left. She couldn't take his sick ways, couldn't adapt to what his needs required, and she left. Normally, he didn't care that much when a woman left. Normally, he was more than ready for them to go. Anastasia was…different.

"Well then." Inside, John was doing a happy dance, outside, he sat quietly and his voice reflected none of his excitement. "That's a change."

Christian nodded and started to pace. "It isn't supposed to be that way! I'm not supposed to get attached. It's just sex, that's what I need, what I want. It can't be anything else."

"What else could it be?"

"Nothing else. I can't do…more." He couldn't! He wasn't capable of more and he explained that to Anastasia. She understood that it was just sex. It had to be just sex because he was a monster and didn't deserve anything else. When you let people get too close they hurt you, badly.

"Do you want to do more?"

"No." Yes. Fuck! What was with his inner voice today?

"Did she want more?"

Had she wanted more? She hadn't really mentioned it, and she understood he wasn't a hearts and flowers kind of man, seemed to accept that fact. So, no, she hadn't wanted more. He'd been the one to ask her to move in, when usually, it was just the weekends he saw his subs. He'd been the one taking her to dinner, when he had never taken any of the others out. Fuck! She'd even met his mother!

"I…I'm not sure." Christian growled and ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know. It doesn't matter. She's gone and that's the end of it!"

"Is it?"

"Yes! What do you expect me to do? Go to her home, break down her door and fucking kidnap her?" Christian suddenly realized that was exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to go to Anastasia's, drag her back to Escala and plead with her to stay with him. He would buy her all the first edition books she wanted, beautiful clothes, another car, jewelery…"Anything… I'd give her anything…"

"Your heart?"

Christian spun around, startled. "W…what?"

"Would you give this woman your heart?"

Christian blinked at John. What kind of question was that? What was the point of it? They both knew that the only heart he had was in the physical; it beat a few times a minute, pumped blood through his body and kept him alive, but that was all. No, he couldn't give his heart; he had no heart to give. His heart was as black as his soul. What woman would want such a thing?

"I can't." He was surprised to find himself shaken and settled back in his chair.

"Do you want this woman…?"

"Anastasia."

"Very well, do you want Anastasia in your life, Christian?"

Christian fought with himself over it, knew that Ana was better off with out him, but he'd been so miserable, so…lost since she'd left. "I…think so."

"Then whatever happened to drive her away must be rectified. That's the only way it can happen."

"No…No, I can't…" He'd lied to Anastasia, telling her he was a dominant, when the reality was he was a sadist. He was sick, sick and twisted and fucked up. "You know I can't."

"So, this was about your sexual preferences?"

"It was because I'm a fucking monster and I hurt her! She'll hate me!"

"Is that important to you?" John asked, curious. "That she not hate you?"

"Of course it's important to me! I don't want her to hate me, or to think I'm a monster!"

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why is it important that she think well of you? You usually don't care what anyone thinks of you."

Stunned, Christian stared at John, and then the fury rose to a flame behind his eyes. "That's a hell of a thing to say."

"But accurate, wouldn't you agree?"

"No. No I wouldn't _agree_. I do care what people think about me. Why wouldn't I?"

"Like who?"

"I beg your fucking pardon?"

"Who's opinions do you value above your own? Who else, besides Anastasia, do you want to think well of you?"

"My family! They matter! Why do you think I've kept my…my habits a secret? Do you think I want them to know their son is a sadist?"

"I don't agree with that term, I've told you before…"

"I don't give a shit's shingle what you agree with, the fact is I am a sadist and I don't want my family to know that!"

"We'll agree to disagree," John returned mildly. "Why don't you want your family to know?"

"You know why."

"Explain it to me."

"Because they'll hate me! They'll think I'm a monster, a sick perverted bastard and they…"

"They'll what, Christian? Laugh at you? Yell at you? Disown you?"

No, Christian thought. It would be worse, so much worse. They wouldn't yell or scream at him, wouldn't disown him' they had too much class for that, but they'd shut him out. Slowly, day by day, year by year, they would freeze him out, and then he'd be back in that place, that horrible, God awful place of being in invisible, unwanted and unloved. Worst of all, it would kill Grace to know the kind of demon she'd brought into her home. He couldn't do that to her, to his mother; the only real mother he'd ever had.

"I would be an embarrassment to them, a liability." They would regret ever taking him, ever letting him in their home. He'd lose contact with Mia and Elliot, and his mother would no longer call and harass him to attend this ball, or that function, or invite him to dinner. His father would no longer try to beat him at tennis.

"I see." John drew a glass half full with water.

He knew the Grey's very, very well and had taken Christian on for that reason, but Christian could not see that his family would stand by him, regardless of whatever label he put on himself, whatever sexual preferences he allowed himself. Grace and Carrick knew what they were getting into when they adopted that lonely, scarred little boy and despite the fights and the desolation and the stressful re-association of a little boy, who was too afraid to talk, being fitted back into society, they had never looked back. Yet, even after all these years, Christian still seemed to have no idea of how devoted his parents were to him, how much they loved him.

"And what about Anastasia? Why should her opinion of you matter so much?"

Christian leaned forward and hung his head in his hands. "I don't know," he whispered. "I don't know why she matters. She's in my head and I can't get her out."

"Will you try to win her back?"

Christian shook his head, not bothering to look up. How could he win her back? Why should he? She was better off without him. Besides, winning someone back, that sounded like…like, they were a couple. Like, he couldn't live without her or that he had been wrong to do what he did, but he hadn't been. Yes he felt bad about it, but she had to understand his lifestyle. She'd asked for the truth and he had given it to her, freely.

He had been nothing but honest with her and she had not been as forthcoming with him. She hid her feelings from him, and that was always dangerous in a submissive. She let him believe she could handle his needs, and then at the first sign of the real thing she bolts! She didn't use her words, didn't use the safety's and let it go far past what she could endure. She was as much to blame as he for what happened.

"I…I don't know how to…" Christian hissed and sat back in the chair, rubbing his hands across his knees. "I can't trust her."

"Trust? In what way can't you trust her?"

"She…I explained the procedures, I explained the…She knew the safety words, she knew that she only had to tell me to stop, but she didn't. I…I don't know how badly I am hurting her if she doesn't tell me, if she…if she doesn't draw the line."

"Perhaps it is better then, in the long run, that she left?"

"I don't know. I didn't want her to leave. It made me feel…" He searched for the right word that would describe the all encompassing misery her leaving had left him with. "Empty."

John's eyebrows almost shot up again as he raised his gaze to focus on Christian. "Oh? Did you tell her that?"

"No."

"Did you ask her to stay?"

Had he asked her to stay? Yes, yes, he had, and then she had told him she loved him. He felt tightness in his chest, felt it crawl up across his torso and lodge in his throat as his hands became fists. "She said she loved me."

"Did you believe her?"

His response was one of anguish. "Yes."

John set his notepad aside and clasped his fingers together, steepling them at his chin. "That's a breakthrough."

Christian rose suddenly, shaking his head. "No. She can't love me, it's wrong. I can't be what she needs and she…she can't give me what I need."

"Well, from all that you've said here today, perhaps you need to re-evaluate your needs."

"What? You're not making any sense."

"All I am suggesting is that you…revisit your current life requirements. Obviously you want to be with Anastasia."

"Yes, but…"

"And she wants to be with you."

"She says she does, but…"

"But you need to be able to trust her…"

"Yes! Yes, exactly!"

"And she needs to be able to trust you."

Christian growled at John. "You're talking in circles."

"No, you're thinking in circles, my lines are completely straight. It's quite simple, Christian. Do you want Anastasia more than you want your playroom? Can you stop being the dominant long enough to see if you truly have something with this woman?"

Christian started to pace to offset the panic and the…hope rising inside him. "I don't know."

"Do you want to find another girl for your play room?"

Christian almost said yes, it would be easier, less stressful and he wouldn't have to deal with all this drama, but then, as he pictured it; the only person he wanted in his playroom, his home or his bed, was Anastasia. Jesus! When had that happened?

"No," he admitted quietly."

"Then you need to take the first step." John rose and moved to the door of his office, their time was up. "You're Christian Grey; one of the youngest CEO's in the world and you've made Forbes's List five years running." He opened the door as Christian moved towards him. "You can be anything, why not a heart's and flower's guy?"


	5. Chapter 5

**characters belong to EL James. Sorry I have been away from this for awhile. Hope you enjoy the update.**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Christian entered Flynn's office. "Is he in?"

The receptionist nodded, startled, and glanced from her computer. "Mr. Grey! I...I don't have you down for today..."

Christian leaned over her desk, slightly. "Is he in?

Of all Dr. Flynn's patients Christian Grey made her the most uncomfortable. He was beyond beautiful, obviously, charming and rich. She had watched many women, and some men, practically swoon over him...but he only made her nervous.

There was just something...off about Grey. She had seen men with a similar vibe, a similar need for control and it was always bad when they eventually lost control. The fact that he was here on a day that he didn't have an appointment was a great cause for concern., and she wasn't quite sure how to tell him that Flynn couldn't be disturbed.

"I...he is, but he's with a patient..."

Christian nodded and moved over to settle in one of the leather chairs. "I'll wait."

Deirdre sighed quietly in relief and sent a discreet text to her employer's phone. She knew that Flynn would not look at the device until after the session, but he would feel the vibration of it in his jacket pocket and that would warn him to check _before_ coming into the outer office.

Christian crossed one leg over the other and sat back, the picture of tranquility. He neither reached for a magazine, nor used his phone. He just sat there, stone silent and waited. Inside, however, he was seething. He'd taken Flynn's advice and took the first step by sending Anastasia flowers under the guise of wishing her congratulations on her first day of work. He made himself a promise to wait for her to make the next move. After all, she was already forcing him to bend his pride. He never chased women, he never had to. He'd make his offer and it was up to them to decide. He was never denied, not once, and it annoyed him that he was being denied now.

He'd expected a text from Anastasia, an email or even a phone call, but there had been nothing and that confused and angered him. It wasn't like her not to respond. She had very good manners, and even if she was still angry with him, she could have sent one of her long winded scathing, self righteous emails. Every time he had given her something she was very quick to respond, and she couldn't possibly object to flowers, as she had the books. So why hadn't she contacted him yet?

He was receiving calls from people because she had left her phone at the apartment. He had given her the phone because he felt she should have it, like the car and the tablet; they were better than what she had before. He didn't understand why she wouldn't continue to use them; even if they were no longer together. His other women did, they didn't return the clothes or toys or jewelry he gave them. They understood that it was theirs, not his. But Anastasia cut all ties, left everything but her purse and the few clothes she'd come with; leaving her closet full of the ones he had bought her.

He'd had to hang up on Kate twice, because the damn woman wouldn't listen and was charging him with horrendous actions against her friend. It bothered Christian that the reporter's accusations were, at least partially, true. He had behaved abhorrently towards Anastasia, but she'd asked him to do it, so he felt justified in what he did. She had wanted to know how bad it could be, so he showed her, but for the first time ever, he felt ashamed for hurting a woman like that.

Then that idiot Jose called last night and he'd answered the phone, more out of jealousy than curiosity. What the hell was that bastard, who had drunkenly tried to take advantage of Anastasia, calling for? Didn't the boy get the message last time? Anastasia was his! Or, at least, she had been.

When the boy begrudgingly advised he was calling due to his art gallery showing Christian promised to give Anastasia the message; but that had been last night and so far he had not heard from her today as he'd expected to. She was destroying his calm, his plan, his…everything, by not behaving properly. Fuck! She should have already called him!

His phone vibrated and he was mildly alarmed at how his temperature seemed to spike, but when he pulled the phone from the clip on his belt he saw it was only an email from Ros and not Anastasia. He barely controlled the urge to punch a hole in the wall next to him.

He couldn't deal with her silence anymore and decided break his own rule. He sent her an email demanding to know if she had received his flowers, and then quickly tried to mask his desperation by reminding her of José's show and offering her a ride. The idea of being around her again caused his body to flush with excitement and something else…fear? No, maybe just trepidation?

But what if she didn't respond to his offer? What is she ignored his email, or worse, sent him one back that confirmed she never wanted to see him again? Christ! What was it about that woman that had gotten so far under his skin? Why couldn't he do without her? When had he become so dependant on her smile, her voice and…yes, even her touch. Jesus, he was so fucked!

He slid his phone back into its holder again just as the inner door to Flynn's office opened and a tall, statuesque blond exited with Flynn beside her.

John smiled. "See you next week, Irene."

The woman nodded and moved across the lush carpeted lobby, pausing to give Christian a flirty glance. "Well hello handsome."

"Fuck off," Christian snapped as he rose and headed for Flynn. "I need to talk to you."

"Always a pleasure, Mr. Grey," the psychiatrist returned, noted the look of stunned horror on Irene's face, then winked at his receptionist to let her know he'd handle Christian. He closed the door as Christian stood in the middle of the room, unable to settle. "I was just about to have lunch. Shall I ask Deirdre to make it for two?"

Christian glared at him. "You were wrong."

John walked to his desk and pulled out an assortment of leaflets from the top drawer, then dropped into his desk chair and began to peruse. "Not hungry then?"

"No, I'm not hungry…."

"Have you eaten today?"

"I…What?" Christian paused and realized he hadn't eaten. He _never_ missed a meal and it shattered him to realize that he had. What had she done to him? "N…No."

"Are you in the mood for Asian?"

"I don't care about …"

"You have to eat, Christian."

Christian caved, because John was right. He did need to eat. He hadn't eaten all fucking day! "Fine. Whatever. Look, you were wrong about..."

"Just a moment." John buzzed his secretary. "Deirdre, order me two number sixes from Taiwan Palace, please, with a Sprite and a Coke?"

Christian was very close to strangling John Flynn with his bare hands. "I don't drink Coke! It's nothing but sugar and artificial ingredients and rots your guts for fuck's sake!"

"Make that a Sprite and a Soda Water, Deidre."

"Certainly, Doctor."

"I pay you to fucking listen to me!" Christian slammed his hands down on John's desk. "So start fucking listening!"

John blinked. "What makes you think I'm not listening?"

"You were wrong about Anastasia! You were wrong about sending her flowers!"

"Well, first of all, I'm never wrong and that is why you pay me, secondly, you sent a woman flowers?" John smiled in approval. "Christian, I'm impressed."

"You told me to!"

"I'm sure I didn't…"

"You told me to be a hearts and flowers guy!" Christian started to pace. "You told me if I was that I could get Anastasia back! Well, I sent her a fucking stunning bouquet of flowers, one I spent over an hour arranging and she…."

"Hold it." John sat forward and clasped his hands on the desk, immediately interested. "You didn't just order a bouquet over the phone?" Christian Grey rarely took the time to handpick anything, he had people who did that for him, and he always ordered the best of the best- so what was there to decide on?

"Of course not!" Christian glared at him. "This was important! Did you think I was going to leave it to some gum-chewing teenager to throw pansies in a vase! Anastasia deserves more than that and if I'm going to be this hearts-and-flowers guy, then I'm going to do it right!"

"Where did you order them from?"

"A shop on Deets Street, where my mother always gets her flowers, only when I went in the arrangements they had were absolute shit, so I picked my own and told them how to arrange them!" Christian ran a hand over his face, worried he was losing control so easily. He forced himself to calm down. "Can we get back to the fucking point here and stop talking about flowers?"

"Certainly. What was the point?"

"You were _wrong_!"

"I hardly doubt that was the point."

Christian started to snap back when his phone beeped. Again that horrible spike in his temperature triggered as he pulled it out and glanced at the display.

"Mobile stays off," John reminded, sharply. He didn't allow such distractions during a session, even if it was unscheduled, and Christian was always on his mobile for one thing or another.

"It's from her," he announced quietly, finding most of his inner strength had fled...including, it seemed, his voice, as he felt backwards for one of the leather wingbacks and dropped into it.

Intrigued, John waved permission. "What does she say?"

Christian found he had to swallow a few times to get the words out. "She's thanking me for the flowers and...and accepting my invitation to drive her to the boy's show."

"The boy?"

"Her friend…Jose…something."

"Well, that's a good thing, then. Isn't it?"

"I..." Was it? Wasn't it better to walk away?

Now that she had responded he didn't know how to react. He wanted her with him, more than anything, but he had to admit that part of the reason he wanted her was because she had walked out, she had left him, and his pride had been hurt. But since she had been gone he hadn't been sleeping, or eating it seemed. His life was in utter chaos and he needed his control back. Anastasia wouldn't bring back his control; she excelled at trying to break his control.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as he realized that was what he liked most about her. She tested him, tormented and infuriated him, but she also made him smile and feel good, and…hope. What was that saying, when she was bad she was very, very bad but when she was good….And it was so very good with Anastasia. Everything was better with her. The sex was more intense, coming home everyday knowing he would see her there made him happier, he was sleeping better; even food tasted better when she was there. Yes, he wanted her back, needed her back, and it had nothing to do with his pride; not anymore.

John watched Christian struggle with his emotions, his heart warring with his demons and almost smiled when he finally saw the young man start to type on his phone.

Anastasia's response to when he should pick her up was almost instantaneous, and Christian felt himself harden in anticipation. The idea that he could see her in just a short while almost overwhelmed him.

"Well?" John inquired. "What does she say?"

"She…she wants to know when I want to pick her up for…for the show."

"Good!" John rose and walked over to the adjacent chair. So she's willing to see you again. That's an excellent start, Christian. You see, it's never wrong to send a woman flowers."

Christian was too preoccupied with Anastasia's email to contradict Flynn. It had been so formal, so…distant. Not at all what he had expected. Her reply was that of a stranger, or distant acquaintance not a lover. He felt the sting of pain in his heart and then anger. Fine, she wants to be formal, he'll be fucking formal. He could play that game too.

He typed a reply, just as distant and formal as hers had been, and tried to ignore the voice inside his head warning that if he went too far he could lose his chance altogether.

"Christian?"

He glanced at John. "I'm taking her to the show…the Boy's show. She's agreed to let me take her." But, suddenly, he didn't want to wait until then, he wanted to see her now.

He thought of all the meetings that he'd put on hold that morning so he could come and see Flynn, and the heavy schedule he had that afternoon as well. None of it mattered if he could have the chance to see Anastasia and he immediately dialed her number. "I have to see her." He needed to talk to her, wanted to go pick her up now and take her back to Escala and…

Consider his surprise when John reached across and ended the call.

"What are you doing?"

"If you're too eager you will scare her away. Stay calm, be polite, not pushy."

"But I want…" He paused as Anastasia responded to his email with a 'see you then that made him not want to wait even more.

"Christian, you lost her because she was trying to give you everything you wanted. Now you need to consider what she wants and whether that is something you can give her." John leaned back in his chair. "Don't string this woman along just because you're developed an attachment to her. It's wonderful that you have, don't misunderstand me, but if she is as special as you say, you'll only end up hurting her if all you want is to go back to the way things were."

Christen hated to admit that John was right. He knew things would have to change if he wanted Anastasia back, but he wasn't sure if he could make those changes. He'd already promised himself he would never hurt her again, never physically harm her. He'd thought that would be the hardest change, giving up his need to inflict pain, but surprisingly, he had felt no need for it this past week while Anastasia was away from him. Nor did he really think about it

"I don't know what she wants."

"Then you need to ask her, talk to her."

Christian groaned. "She never talks to me! Not really. I mean, she does but…" He shook his head. "She doesn't tell me what she's thinking. She's not honest with me."

"And you are honest with her, aren't you?"

"Completely. I've never lied about what I wanted from her!"

"What do you want from her, Christian?"

Christian opened his mouth to say sex and found his throat constricted. His lips pressed together again, tightly. Shit! What did he want from Anastasia? What did he want from this…whatever this was between them? Did it even matter? If she ever learned what he really was, ever really saw the demons he struggled with she'd leave, so what was the point?

But, he realized, he'd take whatever time he could have with her, because she made him feel better. Better about himself, about his work, about everything.

"I just want her to…to be with me. To…" Share his bed? His food? His life? "I just want to be with her, John. I've never felt like this with anyone!"

John nodded kindly. "I know," he said and tried not to show his growing concern.

If Anastasia Steele was just a passing fancy, just a small link in the emotional journey of Christian Grey John could make it work for his patient. If Christian was actually opening up to this woman, and letting her be the light through the darkness he surrounded himself with, it was great progress.

But, Christian did nothing by halves, and John had to admit that if this woman couldn't give Christian what he wanted, what he in actuality needed…If Anastasia Steele broke through those hard barriers enough to hurt Christian, all the progress they'd made might be for naught. She could very well destroy this young man, and John was worried what to do about it.

A knock on the door startled both men from their thoughts. "Come in."

Deidre entered with their food. "Lunch, Doctor."

"Aw." John rose. "Saved by the bell."


End file.
